


Dirty Cash

by butterflyweb



Category: Big Bang (Band)
Genre: M/M, bad things happen to perfectly innocent money, escort!au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-19
Updated: 2012-10-19
Packaged: 2017-11-16 14:27:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/540435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butterflyweb/pseuds/butterflyweb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Jiyong shows up at a hotel room to meet his latest client, what he gets is not what he expects.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dirty Cash

White Doc Martens sink into the hallway’s plush carpeting, room number on the back of a business card tucked in the front pocket of ripped jeans, blood-red boxer briefs peeking out of from the rips in the thighs. The walls that flank either side of him are a rich cream, the molding like icing on a birthday cake. The hotel exudes wealth and prestige and Jiyong can’t help but smirk as he wonders what poor politician’s wife is looking for a walk on the wild side.  
  
He knows he only got the gig because Taeyang favors him, but if it means he has to do a blowjob or two off the books, it’s worth it when he thinks of the tip he could make tonight. Two hundred an hour, minimum of two hours, gratuity not included, but always encouraged. It’s a hell of a step forward from hooking on the streets and he could slap Seungri’s pretty mouth for advising against getting a pimp.  
  
Jiyong curls his lips in a smirk as two women pass by him, grinning a little wider when he feels their eyes on his back. He tugs on the black-and-white kerchief that’s around his neck, pushing his hair back out of his eyes as he searches for the door. Ah. Five sixty-seven. Showtime.  
  
He knocks on the door, leaning into the frame a bit, wanting to seem relaxed and casual when the lucky lady answers the door. He’s the pro, the bad boy--here to fuck away the troubles that come with a trust fund and a platinum credit card. He cards his bangs quickly to fall into kohl-rimmed eyes, mouth curved in a grin as the door opens.  
  
Only to feel it falter when a man answers.   
  
He’s tall--taller than Jiyong, but then who isn’t--handsome in the way that says he’s aware of it, but not obsessive. He looks young for a harried high-end manager or a rich playboy CEO, silky black hair on the longer side, combed neatly. The man arches an elegant eyebrow, waiting.  
  
Jiyong shifts on his feet, not sure what to do—on one hand, hubby could want to take in a show, get his rocks off while some guy fucks his sweetheart. On the other, maybe he came back a couple hours too early and Jiyong’s about to get the shit kicked out of him for doing his damn job.  
  
He’s so busy weighing the pros and cons he almost misses it when the man speaks up.  
  
“You’re late. I requested your services at 10:00 pm, it’s now 10:19,” the guy drawls, pushing up the sleeves of a dove gray pull over, stepping aside as if to make room for Jiyong. To make room for him into his very, very empty hotel suite, nary a big-titted missus in sight and Jiyong balks.   
  
Oh fuck no.  
  
“I don’t fuck guys,” he bites out, chin lifted in challenge. Damn Taeyang. He was fucking clear about that from the outset, whatever he did for him in the backrooms aside. That was getting ahead—this is business, and he has fucking principals.   
  
That damnable eyebrow is up again, cocked in a way that makes him feel like an errant schoolboy.  
  
“Yes, you do.”  
  
“Fuck you, man. You called the wrong delivery service. Better luck next—“He turns to leave when a strong hand clamps around his forearm, dragging him back and far closer to the other man than he was originally.   
  
Thin lips tilt in a smirk, the other man leaning in.  
  
“For five hundred extra on top of your fee,” he says, enunciating the amount, “yeah, you really do. Get in here.”  
  
Jiyong wants to snap back, to pull out of the other man’s grasp and give him nothing better than the sight of his fine ass as he walks out of there, but the price makes him hesitate. Sixty percent of the nominal fee plus five hundred…close to clearing a grand in a single night and the thought makes him exhale slowly. The other man doesn’t relax his grasp.  
  
“Fine,” he growls, shrugging out of the other’s hold and pushing past him into the suite. “But I don’t do S&M shit or no prep and you better fucking well have condoms and lube or you can kiss my ass goodbye before I let you fuck it.”  
  
The other man snorts softly as his little tirade, locking the door and moving to pour himself a glass of liquor. Doesn’t offer his guest any, Jiyong notes, pushing scarlet bangs out of his eyes. “Trust me, I’ll use a condom. Who knows where you’ve been.”  
  
It makes his face burn but he shrugs it off. These fucks that pay for sex certainly aren’t getting any with their winning personalities—it’s why their wallets have to make up for it.  
  
The man turns back to him, glass lifted to his lips. “My name is Seunghyun. So you can make the begging convincing.”  
  
Jiyong lifts his chin. “Always happy to stroke more than your cock.”  
  
Seunghyun grins a shark smile, nodding towards him. “Take off your clothes. Socks too, but leave your underwear on.”  
  
He hesitates a moment, unused to being controlled by a client, used to women who only want compliments and light spankings for the risk-free thrill of it. He pulls his kerchief over his head in the next, sliding off his leather jacket. Unlaces his boots and kicks them off, t-shirt coming up over his head and following the jacket along with jeans into the chair. Socks sporting bright blue stars are peeled off and stuffed in the boots. He stands on display in the middle of the living room as Seunghyun takes in the view.  
  
The other man approaches him, sipping at his drink. Sets it down on a waist-high table with flowers and digs a roll of bills out of his pocket. Tucks a twenty in Jiyong’s underwear.  
  
“Here’s how this is going to work,” Seunghyun murmurs, lips brushing Jiyong’s ear. “You’re going to do what I say. And your…tip…will depend on just how well you do your job.”  
  
Jiyong swallows back the urge to punch his smug face.  
  
“Twenty if you’re passable. Fifty if you’re great at it. A hundred if you convince me you like it.” He bites at the shell of his ear, making Jiyong’s stomach jump. “Anything…lacks effort…it’ll lose you money. Got it?”  
  
“Got it,” Jiyong bites out, eyes closing briefly as the man mouths at his neck, hands grabbing roughly at his ass.  
  
“Good.” A hand slides up his back, fingers taking hold of his hair and pushing him down to his knees, Seunghyun’s other hand working at his belt. The man digs a condom out of his pocket, ripping it open with his teeth and putting it on, wrapper cast aside.  
  
“Suck me.”  
  
Jiyong grits his teeth a moment before relaxing his jaw, tongue touching the tip of the man’s cock before the rest of his mouth follows, sealing his lips over the head and sucking lightly. Testing the reaction, wanting to see how easy the guy was. The action earns him a tightening of the fingers in his hair but not much else besides. Fuck. He’s going to have to work for it then.  
  
Hands coming up to rest on Seunghyun’s hips, Jiyong bobs his head up and down quickly, the taste of latex bitter and antiseptic on his tongue. The wet sound of sucking is the only noise in the room, the john remarkably composed for someone on his side of things. Dragging his tongue along the underside of the man’s length, Jiyong draws in a breath through his nose, hands encouraging the other man’s hips forward to fuck his mouth slowly.  
  
That gets a reaction, a soft moan falling from the man’s lips, eyes going closed. He has remarkably long lashes, dark against white skin. His fist closes harder in Jiyong’s hair, pushing his mouth fast down onto his cock, forcing Jiyong to relax his throat or choke.  
  
His knees are aching on the carpet and he’s a bit relieved when the man pulls him off a couple of minutes later, his lips swollen and the john’s eyes heavy. His cock is stiff, flush against his stomach, framed in the V of his open trousers. Letting out a slightly unsteady breath, Seunghyun peels off a fifty for the roll, pushing it into Jiyong’s underwear once he stands.  
  
“Good. Nice to know your mouth is good for something besides profanity.”  
  
Jiyong clenches his jaw, fingers curled lightly into fists at his sides. This is why he doesn’t fuck men. Women get their rocks off by being told how perfect they were, men get off by making someone feel like shit.  
  
Pants still undone, Seunghyun steps forward, taking his face between his hands and kissing him hard, nearly bruising, tongue pushing into Jiyong’s mouth. The force of the kiss tips his head back, takes him by surprise, angle folding him against Seunghyun’s body. One of the other man’s hands slip free to slide down his spine, down into the back of Jiyong’s underwear. A rough squeeze that pulls him closer and Jiyong tries to breathe without breaking the kiss, not wanting to lose the twenty.  
  
The john’s a good kisser, he’ll give him that. Hard and rough, but passionate—not cruel. _Glad to know your mouth is good for something besides insults_ Jiyong thinks mockingly, a soft noise startled out of him when flat teeth nip his bottom lip.  
  
Another fifty makes its way under his waistband as the kiss breaks, Seunghyun’s eyes dark with lust, even as the wry, deprecating smile stays close to his lips. “You’re going to be more expensive than I thought.”  
  
He doesn’t sound disappointed. If anything, he sounds fucking turned on. It’s proven in the next moment when Jiyong is pushed roughly up against the wall, mouth on his again, a hand palming him roughly through the fabric of his underwear and he can’t help but groan. It seems to excite the other man even more, his weight pinning Jiyong to the wall as he ravages his mouth, the kiss almost fucking desperate it’s so intense.  
  
He leaves Jiyong panting and with a hundred dollar bill scratching at his hip.   
  
“Go into the bedroom,” the other man murmurs in a deep voice, shortness of breath putting an edge to the words. Jiyong pushes away from the wall, heading down the single hallway to the bedroom, stopping in his tracks when he sees the bills that cover the bed.  
  
A clothed chest presses up against his back, arms sliding around his waist and a hand dipping into his underwear. It strokes Jiyong’s cock roughly, making a small noise fall from his lips as his head tips back to rest on the man’s shoulder. A tight squeeze and his hips jerk involuntary, playing literally right into the man’s hand.  
  
“Get on the bed. Lose the underwear and put the cash on the nightstand.”  
  
Jiyong swallows hard, doing as he’s told. Takes the cash out of his underwear, folding it over and sticking it between his teeth as he pushes down his boxer briefs, climbing onto the bed and feeling his face flush as the bills rustle with his movement. Fucking rich prick. Arrogant demeaning asshole.   
  
Jiyong sets his meager stack on the nightstand as instructed, turning to lie on his back.  
  
When he looks again, the other man is naked, strong and fit, cock still hard and flushed between his legs. He puts a knee on the bed, shifting to loom over Jiyong, caging him in with arms and legs.  
  
Jiyong swallows hard, feeling cash tickle at his thighs, cheeks hot with shame and a thread of anger. “You’re really not impressing anyone with this shit,” he gets out tightly, meeting the other man’s eyes in defiance.  
  
Seunghyun shifts until he’s sitting astride him, one eyebrow raised. He picks up a bill from the bed, a twenty, rolling it up and reaching to tuck it behind Jiyong’s ear.  
  
“Who says I give a fuck about what you think?”  
  
“Bastard,” Jiyong chokes, but the man silences him, mouth covering his with another, near brutal kiss. Jiyong makes sure to rake painted fingernails extra hard down his back in retaliation before strong hands take hold of his wrists and pin them over his head.  
  
Seunghyun rocks against him, the friction making Jiyong’s eyes close, even as he’s seething inside, even as he wants to push the man to the floor, reverse their roles. Let him know what its like to feel cheap.  
  
The other man pulls back for breath, eyes dark and lips parted around short inhales, sitting back further and releasing Jiyong’s hands.  
  
“Hold onto the headboard,” he demands, and like the whore he is, Jiyong obeys, wrapping his fingers around wooden poles until his knuckles go white.  
  
Seunghyun adds two bills to his stack before Jiyong watches him pause, throat working around a swallow. “I think…I like where they were before,” he murmurs, slow, quiet, as if to himself. He folds the bills over in half, moving to push them into Jiyong’s mouth, making him bite down to hold them there.  
 _  
Bastard_ Jiyong thinks furiously, trying to think of the money he’ll make, trying to distract himself from the humiliation. _Fucking_ asshole.  
  
Seunghyun digs in the drawer for something, coming up with a bottle of expensive lube and another condom. He puts on the second one carefully, fingers tightening around the base of his cock as his jaw works. He stays that way for a short moment, the only sound in the room their rough breathing and the scratch of paper against 800-thread count cotton.  
  
Jiyong bites down on the money until it makes his jaw ache.  
  
Hands push his thighs apart, urge his knees up and Seunghyun is pouring lube onto his fingers. He’s actually going to do it himself? Jiyong has to admit he’d expected to be forced to bend over and prep himself while the fuck watched and got his kicks.  
  
Jiyong sucks in a sharp breath when he feels a wet pressure at his entrance, a single digit breaching him and for that he moans quietly in relief. Squirms a bit on his bed of cash as it pushes and prods inside of him, opening him up even as Seunghyun delves deeper and Jiyong chokes a little when the man finds what he was looking for, white dots freckling his vision.  
  
Seunghyun watches his reaction, silent, working one finger in and out of him, doing his damndest to hit his prostate each time until Jiyong is fully hard again, hips pushing upward uselessly. Then comes the second, sinking in faster than the first and going right to work teasing his prostate, Jiyong whimpering helplessly around the cash in his mouth.   
  
“You’re not very tight for a virgin,” Seunghyun notes, the low words almost startling in the silence and tension of the moment. “Some of your women take a strap-on to you? Thought you didn’t fuck guys.”  
  
He stills his hand, as if waiting for an answer first and Jiyong growls. “Not professionally,” he bites out around the makeshift gag, the words muffled but audible.  
  
Seunghyun cocks and eyebrow, smirk a little too unsteady to be effective. But he returns his attention to where Jiyong can’t help but want it, pushing in a third finger that makes him writhe with the burn and the stretch.  
  
The prep doesn’t last much longer than that, Seunghyun’s shallow breathes speaking to how close he is and a moment later, the slick, blunt tip of his cock as at Jiyong’s entrance, breaching him without further ado, pushing fast and hard into his body as Jiyong squeezes his eyes shut.  
  
“Fuck,” he hears the other man grunt above him, Seunghyun bracing himself on his elbows next to Jiyong’s head, pushing until he’s seated fully inside of him. Still there for a long moment, looking down at Jiyong beneath him.  
  
His expression is blank, eyes dark and lips swollen, and a moment later he leans in, taking the edge of the bills between his teeth, tugging them out of Jiyong’s mouth. Shifts his weight to reach a hand up, taking them from his own, setting them aside.   
  
“Look at me,” he orders quietly, one knee drawing up for leverage, spreading Jiyong wider. “Only at me.”  
  
Jiyong manages a single nod, taking a deep breath. Only to lose it entirely as Seunghyun pulls back and _thrusts_ , hard, deep into him, and fucking _slams_ into his prostate, then again, Jiyong unable to hold back a cry. It only seems to spur the other man on further, only makes him drive harder into the pliant body beneath him, headboard smacking against the wall with the frantic pace.  
  
“Say my name,” the man bites out, breathing harsh against Jiyong’s shoulder. “Fucking—do it—“  
  
“Seunghyun,” Jiyong gasps against his ear, soft grunts falling from his lips with each thrust. “Seunghyun, please, fuck me, fuck me so good—“  
  
He sells it so well, fuck, he almost convinces himself.  
  
It only makes the pace more blinding until suddenly it stops. Seunghyun pulls roughly out of him and Jiyong fucking _whimpers_ at the loss, until the other man drags him up to hands and knees, taking a rough hold of his hips and pushing back inside him in one punishing stroke, nearly sending Jiyong’s skull into the headboard.  
  
“Seunghyun—“  
  
The other man’s hand takes a rough hold of his erection, making Jiyong’s hips jerk at the coarse touch, just in time to meet another thrust. It shouldn’t fucking affect him like this, this is his fucking job, he’s a professional, except not like this. He doesn’t do this, not unless he wants the man, wants the sex and it’s fucking making the lines blur—  
  
“Jesus, fuck—“ Seunghyun stumbles over his words, breath hot on the nape of Jiyong’s neck and he bites down into the soft flesh, sure to leave a mark, a bruise, and maybe that’s the thought that pushes him over the edge, hips slamming forward in one last surge before his body goes taut in its release.  
  
His wrist gives a single, rough twist and it’s enough for Jiyong, biting the edge of his tongue as he follows the other man over the edge, coming hard onto the sheets, onto the cash that covers them, a painful noise in the back of his throat. His arms lock at the peak of it, only to give out once it’s left his body, Seunghyun following him to hit hard against the mattress.  
  
The other man is pressed flush against his back, still inside him as the sounds of coupling abate and the room is nothing but silence and the scent of sex. A hand rests on his hip, the other underneath his neck, a leg tangled through his own.  
  
“Should move,” he mumbles after a minute, after the silence starts to stretch on. “Gonna be fucking stuck—“  
  
A hand covers his mouth. “Please, just, shut up,” Seunghyun gets out close to his ear, a break in the words, his voice unsteady and it makes something painful stutter in Jiyong’s chest. “Just fucking shut up, I’ll pay you, just—“  
  
He drops his hand from Jiyong’s mouth, breath still hot against his shoulder. Softening inside of him as the sweat cools on their bodies, as Jiyong listens to his pulse thud blindly in his ears. He watches the minutes crawl by on the clock, Seunghyun still holding tight to him, still silent. Jiyong swallows thickly.  
  
What feels like hours but what Jiyong knows to be seven minutes pass before the other man moves, pulling out of him and shifting, presumably to dispose of the condom. Jiyong hesitates, shifting, eyes landing on a wide back. On tense muscles.  
He pushes himself to sit up, hesitant. Reaches to touch the man’s shoulder.  
  
“Seunghyun…”  
  
“Get dressed.” The words are cold. Calm. Collected. “You can have all of it, the money on the bed, whatever you want to take.”  
  
He stands, picking up his wallet from the dresser, tossing four bills to the bed.  
  
“Take it, get dressed and get out.”  
  
It feels like a slap to the face and Jiyong tightens his jaw quickly, lifting his chin. Cleans himself up with the corner of the sheet. Gets up from the bed, picking up the money that’s salvageable, along with the money on the nightstand. Quick and efficient because this is a job, not a pleasure fuck and it doesn’t matter who it’s with. The fact is the same.  
  
Pulling his underwear back on, he passes Seunghyun, the other man still with his back to him, going out to collect the rest of his clothes, movements sharp and jerky with bitten down anger. He dresses fast, lacing up his boots and thinks about stealing something Seunghyun will have to replace. Knows it wouldn’t make a damn bit a difference, to the man or his wallet, and heads for the door.  
  
He stops in his tracks when Seunghyun speaks up again, turns to find the other man’s eyes fixed on him, half in and half out of the bathroom door.  
  
“Next time, don’t wear that shit around your eyes. You’d look better without it.” The door closes.  
  
Jiyong gives it the finger, swiping the expensive leather motorcycle jacket that hangs just inside the door on second thought.  
  
Fucker.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted [here](http://community.livejournal.com/yokshim/190237.html#cutid1).


End file.
